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Germanness in Die Adriatische Rosemund
Germanness in Die Adriatische Rosemund
Germanness in Die Adriatische Rosemund
Lee Czerw
Leo Cholevius, the first researcher to write at length about Philipp von Zesen’s Die Adriatische
Rosemund (1645), claimed that the work is the first German “Familienroman.” This is true only
superficially, for while a love affair does form the skeletal framework of the novel, equal if not
greater space is devoted to digressions of various types: lyric poetry, novella-like anecdotes,
architectural descriptions, and a lengthy scholarly excursus concerning the histories of Venice
and Germany. Despite the bourgeois setting and characters, therefore, Die Adriatische
Rosemund in many ways more closely resembles the encyclopedic and heroic romances of
Madeleine de Scudéry—of whom Zesen was the first German translator—than it does the 18th
century psychological novel, or even La Princesse de Clèves. Furthermore, another theme can
be said to be just as prominent as that of love—that of the German nation and character.
Merlin-Kajman argues in Public et littérature that the drama of Early Modern France was
an attempt to create a type of public sphere through the medium of theater, since absolutism
precluded other, more direct forms of civic participation. Philipp von Zesen, as earlier scholars
have argued (c.f. Rau 1994: 69 et passim), consciously undertook an equally ambitious mission:
creating a German national identity through literature, including Die Adriatische Rosemund, his
earliest novel. Zesen was also a prolific poet and an ardent language reformer, the latter
perhaps being what he is best known for today. In his zeal to purge the German language of
foreign influence and to regularize its written form, Zesen coined many new terms as
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substitutes for Latin and French loanwords and invented his own orthography, which differed
considerably from the evolving conventions of the time (c.f. Kühlmann 2006: 680; Kaczerowsky
1969: 134-164). Both types of language reform are employed throughout Die Adriatische
Rosemund. An appendix attached to the original edition of the novel explains Zesen’s often
eccentric neologisms for the benefit of his contemporaries: for example, “tage-leuchter” [day-
and Mattias Palbizki, both of whom were members of the Deutschgesinnete Genossenschaft
therein his novel with its eponymous heroine, pleading with the dedicatees to accept
Rosemund despite her foreignness and to introduce her to a “High German” audience,
particularly German women. “Rosemund” within the context of the dedication can be said to
represent the book itself, the eponymous heroine, and the new, fashionable Romance culture
exemplified by both:
Aber indässen, daß ich ihnen einige erwiderung ihrer gunst und freundschaft zu leisten
gedänke, so mus ich si zugleich noch mehr bemühen, und mich zu ihrem dihnsten vihl
verpflüchtlicher machchen, als ich schohn bin; indähm ich ihnen ein solches jung=fräulein zu
verträten anbefähle, welches noch zur zeit fremd und unbekant ist, und bei unserem hohch-
deutschen Frauen=zimmer garn in kundschaft gerahten wolte.
[But while I think to give some compensation for your grace and friendship, I must trouble you
still more and make myself much more indebted to your service than I already am; in that I give
over such a maiden to you to represent, who is still at the time foreign and unknown, and who
would gladly make the acquaintance of our High German ladies.]
The following paratext, a foreword addressed to “Dem vernünftigen Läser,” further
elaborates Zesen’s national program. Under this heading, Zesen lays out Die Adriatische
1
Page numbers refer to the most recent critical edition.
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Rosemund’s significance for national identity, declaring that since the French, the Spaniards,
and the Italians have produced praiseworthy love stories, it is time for the Germans, who have
hitherto been preoccupied with warfare and lacked mental alacrity, to do so as well. Even “di
kalten Hohch=deutschen” [the cold High Germans] (AR: 10) cannot resist Cupid’s allurements
any longer. Furthermore, the present book will serve to make the German language more
“erhoben und ausgearbeit” [elevated and elaborated]. The type of love story that Zesen will
write, however, will not only equal those of foreign cultures, but also improve upon them,
particularly with respect to their moral qualities. Unlike its predecessors, Zesen’s new model of
a love story will not be lacking in “power and juice” (kraft und saft), nor will it be too lustful
This preface thus establishes a binary that will reoccur throughout the text. On the one
hand are Romance peoples, who are weichlich and too given to the presumably feminine
qualities of amorousness and chatter; on the other hand are the Germans, who are hardier,
more energetic, and therefore more virtuous than their Romance counterparts. Despite the
ostensible excellence of the Germans, however, Zesen admits that they lack certain cultural
attainments, in this case the novel or love-story, which must be imported and adapted from
supposedly inferior peoples. This would seem to indicate that Germanness could use a certain
admixture of Weichlichkeit after all, but this cannot be admitted without abandoning the claim
to superiority upon which Zesen’s nationalism is predicated. The third and final introductory
Genossenschaft, further highlights this paradox. The author praises Die Adriatische Rosemund
chiefly because it “solche räden führt/ dadurch ein höfling recht und wohl würd aus=gezihrt”
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[carries on the sort of speeches through which a courtier is really and truly ornamented] (AR:
12). The type of ideal German that the text models and trains is thus not the rugged warrior of
the Germanic past portrayed in book five, but rather a cultivated man who can thrive in the
salons of Paris or among the patricians of Amsterdam—in other words, a man like Markhold,
Let us now turn to the narrative itself. The “central” plot of Die Adriatische Rosemund is
relatively simple. Markhold, a German, visits at the behest of a mutual friend a Venetian family
living in Amsterdam. He falls in love with the family’s youngest daughter, Rosemund, and her
father, Sünnebald, initially welcomes the prospect of a marriage between the two. Sünnebald
stipulates as a condition of the marriage, however, that Markhold and Rosemund raise any
future daughters in the Catholic confession, and Markhold, a Protestant, is unable to agree to
this caveat. Markhold eventually leaves for Paris, which causes great distress to both him and
Rosemund; the latter, after temporarily doubting her lover’s faithfulness, resolves to lead the
life of a shepherdess. Markhold eventually returns to Amsterdam and the lovers are happily
reunited for a time, but the marriage question remains unresolved, and Markhold departs once
more. Contrary to the Heliodoran schema, the lovers continue to be separated at the novel’s
conclusion, and the ambiguous final paragraph implies that Rosemund will eventually die of
lovesickness.
Both Markhold and Rosemund are curious hybrid figures, possessing significance far
beyond the novel’s surface plot. There are many indications within and beyond the text that
Markhold is based on the author himself; not least of these is his very name, which is a calque
translation of Phillipp (see van Ingen 2013: 101). Like Zesen, Markhold is an accomplished
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polyglot poet; he also, like the author, spends much of his life as an expatriate in the
Netherlands and France. Although a “historical” Rosemund has never been identified, it is
possible that she too had an autobiographical model in Zesen’s life (see e.g. van Ingen 2013:
100-101). Biographical mysteries aside, her main significance is symbolic, as Ferdinand van
Ingen notes (ibid.). Even outside Die Adriatische Rosemund, the name Rosemund appears in
many of Zesen’s poetic and essayistic works as a figure akin to Petrarch’s Laura (ibid.); she is the
author’s muse, to whom all his efforts are addressed. She is thus the embodiment of Zesen’s
work with language, his dedication to poetry, and, on a more concrete level, his language
society, for the birth date given for Rosemund is the founding date of Zesen’s Deutschgesinnete
Genossenschaft (ibid.). On the other hand, she nevertheless remains, as the above-mentioned
dedicatory letter states, a foreigner; her origin and character as a Venetian are mentioned
repeatedly throughout the novel and never forgotten. If she is the allegorical representation of
German eloquence, it is an eloquence which has its origin in a borrowed Romance culture that
says: “[Ich bin] gleich mitten im Adriatischen Meer gebohren/ und den wällen […]in etwas
nahch=geahrtet” [I was born straight in the middle of the Adriatic Sea and in some respects
As the above-quoted passage shows, and Ferdinand van Ingen has, in my view,
definitively demonstrated, the portrayal of the two central lovers of Die Adriatische Rosemund
through early modern climate theory (see van Ingen 2008). Zesen identified the German-
speaking lands with the Northern climate zone (see Lammersen-van Deursen 2007:42), which
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Markhold is therefore “colder” than Rosemund, unable and unwilling to give himself over
completely to love, although he remains, as the narrator constantly emphasizes (c.f. van Ingen
Rosemund at first, initially drawn to her, as he himself admits, more out of esteem and pity
than passion (ibid.). Rosemund, on the other hand, is like the aforementioned waves in her
moods, given to extremes of love, jealousy, and grief, although publicly she is usually a model of
decorum. Near the beginning of the novel, she draws the completely irrational conclusion from
one of Markhold’s letters that he loves another woman and sent her, Rosemund, the letter by
mistake; Markhold, on the other hand, never doubts Rosemund’s loyalty and interprets her
accusations only as further proof of her devotion. Upon realizing her suspicions were
Finally, in the novel’s final pages, her love for Markhold consumes her completely as she slowly
wastes away.
Having examined the view of national character exemplified by the “main” story, I wish
now to turn the reader’s attention to the ways in which Die Adriatische Rosemund’s minor
episodes and rhetorical set-pieces attempt to create, and police the boundaries of, Zesen’s
and unsubtle fashion, Zesen’s understanding of the difference between Germanic and Romance
(specifically Italian and French) character (c.f. Lammersen van Deursen 2007: 42). This episode
begins during Markhold’s Parisian travels when the protagonist’s German friend, the
Eiferich, like Rosemund herself, is prone to irrational jealousy, and falsely accuses Härz=währt
of having seduced his beloved. Härz=währt receives his enemy’s challenge in an exemplarily
heroic, and thus Germanic fashion, showing no fear whatsoever. On the contrary, he is
positively jovial, telling Markhold “nuhn wül ich meine unschuld mit höhchsten fräuden
verföchten” [now I want to fight for my innocence with the greatest joy] (AR: 93). Markhold,
for his part, likewise displays the Germanic qualities of bravery and loyalty during this crisis.
Although Markhold, as the narrator states, would much prefer to ponder the letter he has just
Weil er sich aber seiner pflücht erinnerte/ so wolt’ er auch gleich=wohl nicht zu=gäben/ daß
man här=nahch von ihm sagen möchte/ als wan er seinem fräunde nicht hätte beistähen
wollen: dehrgestalt, daß er sich auch straks rüstete/ und zur entscheidung oder zum streite
gefast machte. (AR: 93)
[Because he remembered his duty, he thus nevertheless did not want to allow that one would
say of him afterwards that he did not wish to stand by his friend: with the result, that he armed
himself and set his mind on a decision or a battle.]
The duel itself continues to show a stark contrast between national characters. Härz=währt
immediately challenges Eiferich to a combat with pistols, which causes the latter to react with
hesitancy and dread. Eiferich’s companions (a Frenchman and an Italian) react with even
greater cowardice and begin to tremble (fohr furcht zu zittern anfingen) (AR: 94). The narrator
is careful to note the moral and national significance of the ensuing combat:
So schauet dan nuhn al=hihr den aller=eifrichsten und aller=tapfersten zwe=strit/ dehn man
ihmals mit augen gesähen hat/ und dehn ein tapferer Deutscher und ein Libes=eifriger
Wälscher ein=ander lüfern: jener aus billiger vertähdigungen seiner ehre/ und diser aus
eingebildetem arg=wohn und lauterer schähl=sichtigkeit.
[Thus regard here now the most ardent and most brave duel that one ever saw with eyes, and
which a bold German and an amorous Italian delivered unto each other: the former out of a
rightful defense of his honor and the latter out of imagined suspicion and pure envy.]
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Härz=währt’s German friends attempt to intervene in the duel, with the result that one
of them, Lauter=muth, dies at Eiferich’s hands. This event provides for yet another study in
contrasts. The women of Lauter=muth’s social circle, who are described as “deutsche
demonstrating their loyalty. Eiferich’s French lover, on the other hand, who mistakenly
believes him to be dead, does not mourn him at all, but instead immediately sets her amorous
sights on Härz=währt. This prompts the narrator to conclude the entire episode with a lapidary
Man saget sonst ins gemein/ daß di Hohchdeutschen träu=beständig/ di Wälschen Libes-eifrig/
oder schählsichtig/ und die Franzosen leicht=sünnig sein.
[One otherwise says generally, that the High Germans are loyal/steadfast; the Italians lustful or
jealous, and the French frivolous.]
Another of the novel’s inset stories, “Di Begäbnis Der Böhmischen Gräfin und des
Wild=fangs,” similarly serves to advance Zesen’s nationalist project. In this case, Germans are
not pitted against other nationalities, but rather competing models of Germanness are pitted
against each other. Throughout the Schwank-like tale, Markhold schemes to take revenge on a
minor nobleman (a “Freiher” or baron) who has offended him on various occasions. As
Markhold himself remarks, the baron’s name, Wild=fang, is indicative of his coarseness. He
thus represents the antithesis of the cultured, bourgeois intellectual positioned Die Adriatische
Rosemund (particularly in the ethnographic digression in book five) as the ideal German.
Markhold accordingly achieves his revenge through his cultural superiority to Wild=fang.
Learning that Wild=fang loves a certain Bohemian countess, he uses his mastery of courtly
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manners, which he displays throughout the novel, to inveigle his way into the countess’ life.
The prototypically courtly skill of dissimulation serves Markhold particularly well at this
juncture:
Ich lihs mich dässen/ was ich im sünn‘ hatte/ ganz nichts märken/ und bemühete mich nuhr
über währender tahffel (da ich dan alle=zeit bei der Gräfin zu sizzen kahm) mit höchstem fleis/
daß ich durch stähtiges und frei=wülliges auf=warten ihre gunst und gnädigen wüllen erlangen
möchte. (AR p.137)
[I did not let anything of what I had in mind be noticed, and strived during the dinner (during
which I always came to sit near the countess) with the greatest diligence that I might attain her
grace and goodwill through constant and willing service.]
Eventually, the countess comes to confide in Markhold her great interest in “di deutsche Ticht=
und reim=kunst” [art of German poetry and rhyming] (AR: 168). Markhold, continuing to
dissimulate, hides his own skill in this art from the countess and lends his abilities as a poet to
Lihb=wärt, a romantic rival of Wild=fang. With the help of Markhold’s poetry, which on
Markhold’s advice he passes off as his own, Lihb=wärt succeeds in winning the heart of the
countess. Wild=fang is driven insane as a result; Markhold’s new, middle class version of
Germanness has, in other words, successfully displaced the old, uncultivated landed nobility.
The ending of the inset story presents a third model of Germanness that is also implicitly
rejected, although, as we shall see, this is more problematic than it appears at first glance. The
half-crazed Wild=fang encounters a peasant during his wanderings and is instantly smitten with
her. While the peasant girl speaks in a dialect that is evidently meant to be perceived as
inherently comic, Wild=fang speaks to her in language reminiscent of that of Die Adriatische
Rosemund itself in its more high-flown moments, quixotically employing pompous similes to
Das blikken ihrer augen (sahgt' er) wan si ihn auf di seite anschihlete, wäre gleich wi das
lihbliche blikken der kunst- und krihgs-göttin Kluginne... Solcher-gestalt ging er fast durch alle
glider ihres ganzen leibes, und gahb ihr seine fol- und tol=brünstige libe gnugsam zu verstähen,
wan si es nuhr hätte verstähen können.
[The glance of her eyes (he said) when she glanced at him from the side, was like the lovely
glance of the art and war goddess Kluginne...thus he went through almost all the limbs of her
whole body, and gave her to understand his complete and madly ardent love, if she could only
have understood it.]
It is no wonder that the peasant girl, Wummel, is confused by this speech, since “Kluginne,” a
Germanized name for the goddess Athena, was a coinage of Zesen’s and is used nowhere
outside his own works. I would argue that Zesen is here enacting, as it were, the anticipated
reception of Die Adriatische Rosemund: like Zesen himself, Wild=fang is presenting a reformed,
self-consciously artistic version of the German language before an uncomprehending and still
insufficiently learned public. What, precisely, is being mocked here: the peasant class, the
nobility who are lacking in the education to employ poetic language competently, or even
poetic topoi on an inappropriate object that is felt to be laughable rather than his language
itself, but on the other hand, Wummel and her father are not painted in unambiguously
negative terms. Wummel shares Markhold’s judgment of Wild=fang’s behavior as foolish and
risible, which may well be meant to reflect a certain healthy peasant sense on her part.
Markhold-as-narrator describes her body and actions with images that paint her as rustic, but
not necessarily undesirable: her cheeks have the healthy glow of “röhstenden braht=würst”
[roasting bratwursts] (AR: 179) and her back is “untersäzt” [heavyset] yet hübsch [pretty], so
strong that it could carry a tower. She grins at Wild=fang “so fräundlich […] als eine kuh ihrem
kalbe” (as friendlily as a cow at her calf” (ibid.). This physical robustness is in striking contrast
to Rosemund, who grows sicklier as the novel progresses. When Markhold departs from her for
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the final time, her cheeks are described as “verblichen” [faded] (AR: 279), her hands are
“verwälket” [withered], and her mouth is “verblasset” [pale]. Rosemund likewise lacks the
emotional openness of the grinning Wummel, being so hobbled by her “angebohrne zucht und
höfliche schahm” [innate breeding and courtly modesty] that she cannot bring herself to
express her sorrows to the departing Markhold. The two peasants Wild=fang encounters are
thus, in many respects, more like the ancient Germans described in the Tacitus-influenced
historical excursus (see below) than are Markhold and Rosemund, who have thoroughly
internalized court culture. Perhaps sensing that he is unable to satisfactorily reconcile these
competing models of Germanness, Zesen has Markhold abruptly break off his narration of
Wild=fang’s misadventures at this point with the claim that he does not know what happened
to him afterwards (wi es noch dahr=mit abgelauffen ist). The inset tale of “Di Begäbnis Der
Böhmischen Gräfin und des Wild=fangs“ as a whole ends with the countess‘ reported
exclamation „Wi ist er so ein schähdlicher feind und so ein träuer fräund zu=gleich! o wi hat
man sich fohr ihm zu hüten!“ [Oh what a harmful enemy he (i.e. Markhold) is and what a true
friend at the same time! Oh, how much should one beware of him!] This serves, as it were, to
elevate Markhold back to the level of the heroic despite the picaresque content of this tale; his
Perhaps the most significant digressions in Die Adriatische Rosemund are the historical-
cum-ethnographic descriptions of Venice and Germany in the fourth and fifth books, which in
many respects form the novel’s thematic core; indeed, it is possible that the love story itself
was conceived as a framework for this non-narrative section (see Laforge 1982: 274-275).
Rosemund and her father describe the city-state of Venice, which is portrayed as an already
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fully-formed culture that has produced innumerable examples of great art and architecture.
Even more interesting to Zesen, however, is Venice’s form of government. Zesen, through
Rosemund’s father, describes the city-state’s ruling regime in meticulous detail, taking
particular care to inform the reader of Venice’s non-absolutist sharing of powers (Laforge 1982:
256-257). At times departing from his written sources in order to further stress the city’s
“democratic” nature (ibid.), Zesen notes that the Doge is not an absolute ruler, that councils
play a key role in governing, and that the bourgeoisie is allowed to participate in the
administration of the state. As Danielle Laforge notes (Laforge 1982: 266), the report on Venice
implicitly functions as a possible model for Germany, whose politically chaotic and fractious
nature is emphasized in Markhold’s subsequent report. Markhold’s “Kurzer entwurf der alten
und izigen Deutschen” [short sketch of the old and modern Germans] emphasizes concrete
cultural or political achievements far less than does the account of Venice. The German past is
mythic and half-forgotten; the German present is inchoate and unstable, in need of new
inventing—the distant origins of the German people and the etymology of the demonym
“Deutsch.” According to Markhold, the name “Deutsch” is derived from the legendary hero
Tuiskon, who was the great-grandson of Noah. The word “Europe,” furthermore, derives its
name from Tuiskon’s grandfather, Jafet, who was blessed by Noah to spread his descendants
throughout that region of the world; Europe allegedly means “ein breites aus-sähen, oder eine
weite gegend” [a broad prospect, or a wide region] (AR: 241). Markhold thus makes the
Germans, in a sense, the heirs of all Europe. After his etymologically ruminations, Markhold
turns to a more “historical” account of the ancient Germans, which is based largely on Tacitus
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and emphasizes their warlike traits and uneasy relationship to authority. The ancient Germans
[...] wan es aber eine schwäre sachche wahr, so kahm di ganze gemeine zusammen, und wan
das folk sein guht-dünken gesahgt hatte, so machten di führnähmsten den schlus.
[When it, however, was a weighty matter, the entire community came together, and when the
people had said its approval, the chieftains thus made the decision.]
Markhold also mentions, perhaps surprisingly, that the ancient Germans were given to singing
before battle. Though this ethnographic detail does not originate with Zesen, its placement in
Markhold/Zesen’s poetic activities, hinting that they are a continuation of ancient heroic
tradition.
shifts to the present. The “civilizing process” has, as it were, broken down:
Aber, meine Schöne, diser angebohrne muht zu föchten, wi nüzlich und löblich er fohr disem
den Deutschen gewäsen ist, so schähdlich und verdamlich ist er ihnen wider-üm zu disen zeiten:
da sich di Deutschen Fürsten unter-einander selbst auf-räuben, und das eine teil mit den
ausländischen fölkern wider ihr eigenes vaterland in verbündnüs trit, und dässen untergang
beförtern hülfet.
[But, my beauty, this in-born predilection for fighting, however useful and praiseworthy it was
earlier for the Germans, just as harmful and condemnable is it in turn for them in these times:
since the German Princes rob each other, and one part enters into alliance with the foreign
peoples against their own fatherland and aids in furthering its downfall.]
In other words, older forms of German heroism, represented by Germanic Princes and
emerging, however, in the learned bourgeoisie (c.f. Laforge 1982: 274 et passim) who are
entering into the service of the nascent administrative state; it is men from this social class who
are the true heirs of ancient Germanic freedom, since “ein gelährter Jüngling hat di gröhsseste
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freiheit, als ein mänsch immer-mehr haben kan” [a learned youth has the greatest freedom that
a human can ever have] (AR: 256). Although the German lands of the present are engulfed in
the chaos of the Thirty Years War, Markhold/Zesen holds to the implicit hope that the new
educated class can reform the nation along Venetian lines, transforming Germany into a well-
administered state led by bureaucrats from the ranks of the bourgeoisie (see Laforge 1982:
275-276). Markhold himself is of course the model of the perfect Höfling who will lead the way.
A few words must now be said about the tragic ending of Die Adriatische Rosemund. As
mentioned above, Zesen’s novel, unlike his immediate French literary models, does not end in a
happy reunion or marriage between its two principal lovers. Here too, Zesen’s conception of
national character is at work; the tragic ending is an attempt to give “kraft und saft” to a
Romance literary form by rejecting that which sent trop le roman. A more romanesque
potential ending is, in fact narrated by Markhold shortly before the final pages—and tacitly
rejected. In the final inset tale of Die Adriatische Rosemund, “Eine Nider=ländische geschicht
von einer ahdlichen Jungfrauen und einen Rit=meister” [“A Dutch Story of a Noble Maiden and
a Cavalry Officer“] Markhold tells Rosemund the story of a young couple very much like
themselves, who are unable to marry because of the objections of the girl’s parents. Unlike
Markhold, however, the cavalry officer behaves like a hero of traditional romance, fighting off
the parents’ lackeys with his sword and abducting his beloved by force. The inset story also
ends in a fashion typical of romance: not only are the young man and woman happily wed, but
the latter is also able to retain her inheritance. Neither Markhold nor Rosemund attempt to
enact this story in their own lives; they seem to recognize that such things are impossible in the
soberer world they inhabit. Michael Armstrong-Roche in his 2009 study Cervantes' Epic Novel:
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Empire, Religion, and the Dream Life of Heroes in Persiles argues that the verse and prose epics
of the Renaissance were torn between the competing values of arms and love, with the tension
ultimately being resolved in favor of one of the two sides in each work (see Armstrong-Roche
glory in the abstract, since Markhold wields only a pen. Early in the narrative, Markhold
composes a poem in which he stresses that he is more devoted to virtue than to love and
expresses his hope for literary immortality: “schöhnheit hält mich ganz nicht auf/tugend geht
doch ihren lauf [...] meine starke Tichterei/ macht mich fohr dem tode frei” [beauty does not
delay me at all/ virtue runs its course...my strong poetry makes me free from death] (AR:38-39).
Evidently with similar intentions, Markhold increasingly withdraws from Rosemund in the
novel’s final two books, “damit er [...] seiner bücher däs zu bässer abwarten könte” [so that he
could devote himself so much the better to his books]. Like a middle class Aeneas, Markhold
abandons a personal happiness in order to pursue glory, and, as it were, found a nation through
literature. If one takes the autobiographical parallels to their logical conclusion, perhaps he
Germanness forms a core theme of Die Adriatische Rosemund, if not its principal raison d’être.
It is, however, a vision of Germanness that is infused with contradictions and paradoxes. The
Germans are heroic in their roughness and hardiness, yet these virtuous qualities are self-
destructive; they are superior to weak Romance peoples, yet they must import their culture in
order to better themselves. The two models Zesen holds up to his “High German” readers are
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problematic in numerous respects. Markhold is the heir of the German heroic tradition, yet he
as an exemplary lover, yet his true virtue lies in his abandonment of love. Rosemund is the
embodiment of the potential of the German language, yet she herself is not German, and is
thoroughly “Romance” in her behavior and character. It was perhaps due to these crises in
representation that Die Adriatsche Rosemund enjoyed little to no success in its own day. In a
cruel irony, Zesen would seem to have suffered the fate of Wild=fang.
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